PsuedoCurse
by Teo
Summary: AU (Again) Futuristic, Akane is a detective and Ranma is a murderer. But all is not as it seems. R/A
1. Chapter 1: First night

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma.

Psuedo-Curse 

Chapter 1:

First night 

It was a quiet night. The kind of night that has been so far untouched by any semblance of chaos. The kind of night when the stars shine like beacons behind the translucent veils of smog and haze that surround any and every city. That was why the air was uncomfortably still, giving an impression of slow movement, like molasses, each time a breath was let out. It was the kind of perfect night that cries out for turmoil like a wolf cries for comrades. And that was why it could not go untouched by the hand of one who brought havoc. And fear. And who swept across this masterpiece of a night like a shadow in the dark, or a slow breeze in a hurricane, bringing an infestation of disarray, terror, headlines, busy days, and sleepless nights to the city of Nerima. 

          On this quiet night.

          It was not the first time. Not for this one. This invisible, twisted death.

          Akane leafed through the newest file, and the ones before it. They fell before her thumb emitting a sound like the movement of clean sheets or a zephyr on a quiet day. She was alone in her shoddy, one-bedroom apartment – the best she could afford on a detectives wages – and maybe that's why the sound seemed to push aside the air around it and waft through the room like an unseen specter. The only other sounds were the occasional passing of streamlined vehicles, traveling like beetles along the pitiless river of black asphalt, and the shaky hum of the buildings timeless heating system. It was Fall, and chilly, with mornings of fog, and cold tiles on bare feet, and untouched condensation glazing the windows of slick city buildings.

          "What a disgusting world we live in."

          Akane's voice floated from her lips, having a similar effect as the flipping of her files on the air around her. She picked up the newest on, on the top of the ever-growing pile of scant facts and scientific obituaries. All useless. She read:

          'Name: Ryoga Hibiki. Age: 23. Occupation: pilot- Nerima airport. Date of birth: February 14, 2005. Date of death: September 27, 2028. Cause of death: Snipe- M6 long range. Area of penetration: Frontal cerebrum.'

          Useless.

          None of the morbid files showed any sign of correlation, apart from the cause of death, and the area of penetration. This one used a different gun, a different bullet, a different target. But he always killed at night. And he was ruthlessly efficient in effacing the scene of evidence. No one had ever seen him, no one had ever found evidence against him. No one had ever found evidence against anyone. Of course she thought of the killer as 'him.' Never 'her.'

          It was disgusting. Almost as much as the killings themselves, or the society of faceless strangers the world had become. 

          A knock sounded at the door. The two short raps echoed strangely, as if her room was a hollow tile beneath pounding feet. Akane felt herself smile as she rose to answer. It was not a true smile, only a sad, artificial impression. No one would notice. Especially not the face behind the door. 

          "Nihao!" 

          The smiling face of Xian Pu. The bubbly girl from China, who smiled so often that telling whether they were real or fake was impossible. Because they were all the same silly open-mouthed grin, her perfect teeth glinting like sterile tiles. She was so unlike Akane, who had perfected the art of false expressions through long hours of practice. Akane supposed they were friends.

          "Xian. Let's go."

          On one day each week Akane went somewhere with Xian. She could never tell which day, she could never tell where they went. It was like a dream, fluid and fleeting and pointless. They went to dinner on cold nights. They watched movies when it rained. They stayed outside in the summer. And it all ran together in Akane's mind like wet paint running together, first in beautiful swirls of color, then all mixed into a puddle of murky brown. She couldn't remember her reasons for ever leaving her job, she couldn't remember when this started. She thought it had been Xian's idea.

          The road flew beneath them, incredibly fast, incredibly dangerous. Like death. Neither of them spoke as they drove. The car smelled of damp fur and cleaning fluid. It was silent, and still. Maybe they would talk later.

          The car came to a smooth stop in a line of identical vehicles against the sidewalk, its monstrous tires grinding pebbles into grains of sand. They were blocks from the restaurant. That was the price of overpopulation and lack of parking lots. Parking lots were long gone – foreign now, something unheard of.  Even without them, the walk to the restaurant seemed short.

          They were greeted upon entry. It wasn't crowded. That was why the hostess, with her painted lips and unnaturally arched brows, was able to seat them and take their orders swiftly. With a smile, of course.

          Akane took a look at Xian's plate. 

          "You ordered fish."

          Xian paused, her fork partway to her mouth, fish dangling neatly off the prongs. She looked at her meal as if she had never seen it before. 

          "I thought you hated sea food."

          Xian's smile was back.

          "I guess I felt like a change."

          They both laughed. Akane didn't know why. 

          They were walking back to the car. Akane watched the stars, a hobby of hers. Aquila, the eagle, was out. It was clearest this month, and next month, in a few days, her favorite constellation would appear. She admired the stars because they were pure, and lifeless, and away from Earth.

 The walk seemed to be taking longer. Akane thought it was the meal settling comfortably in her stomach, but as she continued she realized Xian was slowing them both down. Her stride was that of a toddlers, wobbling and uncertain on weak legs. Akane stopped, in concern she supposed. 

          "Xian."

          She didn't answer. A cold sweat broke over her, the drops rolled like tears down her face, down her sides, down her back. Her clothes were visibly damp. She leaned against a building, sliding down the wall until she was on the ground, whimpering.

          "Xian?"

          She didn't answer. Her legs curled against her chest, her hair slick with sweat and plastered to her forehead. She drew ragged, audible breaths, her chest heaving as tears fell from her eyes like shining pearls. The sound of her breathing grew more labored: the cries of a haunting phantom.

          "Xian!"

          She didn't answer. She couldn't. A bud of purest red blossomed from the perfect circle in the center of her forehead. A clean shot. Then the dams broke and blood fell in rivers across her face, parting for her nose, catching in her sightless eyes. Behind her it dripped down her back. Twin puddles, joining, running together, like wet paint all of one color. A perfect shot. 

          Akane turned without thinking in the direction of the shot. She was running before she knew what was happening. There was nothing she could do for Xian, there never had been. You could never do anything, for the dead. Footsteps, echoing her own, pounding on the street, the sidewalk. Heavy with thick boots, not hers. 'HIS.'

          She ran faster. Maybe her legs were protesting, she couldn't tell. She ran faster. Her eyes caught a heel, dashing around the next corner. She ran faster. Then she had turned the corner, and he was in plain sight.   

          "Stop!"

          She didn't really expect him to stop, so she was surprised when he did. He whirled around, fury radiating off him and Akane was able to get a good look at him.

          His hair was the darkest shade of black, bound in a short pigtail behind him. Blue eyes burned through her like hot coals from his frowning face. He was lean, not thin, and dressed all in black. Disgusting.

          "Idiot!"

          His voice was angry. He was angry. Akane felt her own anger rise to meet his. She wouldn't be outdone. Before she could do a thing though he had clamped a hand over her mouth and had taken her hands behind her back. She kicked and struggled, but it got her nowhere. She hadn't expected it to. As she drew a deep breath against his gloved hand, she dimly realized she was taking in some sort of tranquilizer. She didn't know what it was, but it was making her sleepy…

          The world became filtered, as if she were surrounded in cotton. The streetlights were blinding and dim at the same time, and her senses whirled. She thought maybe she would die soon, by his hands.

          Why?

          Because he had killed so many others.

          Would it be so bad to die?

          Only if she were killed by him.

A/N: I swear, this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Yes, Aquila is a real constellation, I looked it up. If you think the sentences are kind of short, and the grammar is kind of sloppy, that's okay. I meant it to be kind of like that. Also the title is really weird. I meant this to be longer, but it didn't work out that way. And I took some liberties with Shampoo's name. I don't think that matters very much though because she's already dead. I don't know if I should continue, I have the plot worked out already, but this story is more like original fiction that takes elements from the Ranma universe and twists them. O well, I'll wait and see if anyone wants me to continue. So, REVIEW!!


	2. Chapter 2: The untouchable innocent

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma.

Chapter 2:

The untouchable innocent

There was no sunlight. Not in the windowless fortress that Akane woke up to. The world was a muggy picture of mist and smoke, as if she had just stepped out of a steaming shower. Her head lolled across her chest as her vision flickered and began to even out. She winced at the brightness. There was no sunlight.

          Light fixtures like glowing eyes glared down at her from the ceiling. Desk lamps cast odd shadows against the walls from there precarious positions atop cluttered tables. The feeble flames of many candles faltered and danced, wax pooling on the bare floor around them. Candles. Strange.

          She sat in a chair, cords chafing her wrists and ankles, among the beaten walls, the scuffed floors, the smell of rain and fire. The light. In the room that brought her own apartment to her mind for a reason she did not understand. They were both in pretty bad shape. Maybe that was it. Or maybe that was less disgusting.

          "You're awake."

          Her view became a kaleidoscope as her head snapped up too fast. It was him.

          "Don't scream. No one will hear you."

          Screaming hadn't even crossed her mind.

          He crossed the room moving behind her. And though she watched him with only suspicion in her eyes, she had a hard time believing he was a killer. _The_ killer. Like a name that doesn't fit its owner, though they've had it all their life. Like two colors that don't quite match, though they ought to. Like a piece that just doesn't fit, though there is no other place to put it. Innocent death. Looks can be deceiving.

          The cord around her wrists loosened. Akane felt a great sense of relief and pain because, like many other things, she had not realized how much of a burden the bindings were until they were less painful. The skin felt raw, cooled by her sweat and the air around it. The cord around her ankles loosened. She felt the same mixture of hurt and reprieve.

          "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to move in your sleep, so I tied you a little tighter. I'll get you something, be right back."

          She hoped it was pity and not concern that she heard in his voice. She wished it were pity and not concern. She wished it were hatred. Brutality. Revulsion. The same things that she felt. It would be so much easier, then, to continue to feel that way. 

          Akane's breath escaped from her throat in a startled gasp, a sharp intake of air. She could just see the top of his head behind her. The smell of antiseptics – a sour, acrid smell – permeated the naturally musty odor of the room. She felt his hands at her scraped wrists, covered in cold cream. The kind you found in cheap drugstores packaged in industrial sized bottles. Unbelievably, painfully cold.

          "I know it hurts now, but this will make it better."

          Was that concern again? Damn him.

          "Why am I alive?"

          Her voice was hoarse, slurred, thick. Raw like her throat, like her wrists. It was a stupid question. What question wasn't? 

          "I don't know. Why am _I_ alive?"

          It was a stupid answer. He stood in front of her. Untouchable. If it was an answer at all. 

          She was angry. It was the innocence in him, around him. It was the unchanging note of concern in his voice. It was his joke of an answer. His childish kindness. The way he would not hate her. The way he made his crimes slip to the back of her mind like a dream upon waking. The way they came back around to sting her when she realized….

          She could not be disgusted with him. She was not innocent. She never felt concern. She was never kind. She hated many. She could only be disgusted with herself. For not being a better person. And she hated him for that. 

          "Damn you!"

          She was angry.

          "Hate me!"

          She was crying.

          "Kill me!"

          There were no tears.

          He stared at her, unfazed. Him, the killer. The untouchable innocent.

          "No. Are you hungry?"

          Akane's face fell. Her mouth hung open. Her brows pushed together. Her eyes partway lidded. He watched her, waiting for an answer. Gradually her mouth closed, her face became a blank mask. A doll's face. 

          "I… no. I'm not."

          "Oh, me neither. I was just asking."

          She closed her eyes and took a deep, quivering breath. Confused and shaken. And angry. There was a distinct lack of fear.

          "I'll ask you again. Why am I alive?"

          "I'll tell you again. I don't know." 

          She grit her teeth. They ground together unpleasantly.

          "Did you bring me here?"

          "Yes."

          "What are you going to do with me?"

          "Kill you."

          She started, her eyes widening. Not in fear, in shock. He met her eye in his unshakable friendly demeanor and laughed. His laugh was not twisted, not chilling. Neither was he.

          "I was kidding."

          "No shit."

          Her voice was a breathy hiss as he grinned at her lopsidedly. A confident smirk. He was in control. She was under his control.

          "I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you."

          Akane didn't like that. Maybe it was childish of her, or maybe it was more mature than anything, but she wanted that control. And it was all too clear, like the truth that slaps you in the face, that she would never have it. Not here, not with him. The truth was ugly.

          "I guess I'll go find a spare room to lock you in."

          He could have been talking about the weather. The jerk. As if that wasn't enough, he had to turn back around just before he left the room. And say the words she least wanted to hear.

          "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Call me Ranma."

          Now he had a name. He was a person. More real, more tangible. A person she hated because she couldn't hate him. He was too… pure. Like a child, but different. Very different.

          Ranma. The wild horse. The killer. The untouchable innocent. 

A/N: Short chapter, sorry! Okay, in the first chap., Akane was sort of detached from everything. Well, she's usually that way when everything is in order and under control, but when everything is sort of chaotic because it's not at all what she expected she lets her emotions get the best of her. In the Ranma universe Ranma is the one who usually sets off her temper, well now he does too, but in a different way. Umm… as for Ranma, you'll find out more about him later. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! These chapters are going to come out slowly until I finish Half and Half. I'm a slow writer, sorry. If you think the atmosphere in this story is a little surreal well, it's supposed to be kind of like that. I guess that's all I have to say, except REVIEW!! Okay, welll, bye.


	3. Chapter 3: Death and the Wild Horse

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 3:

Death and the Wild Horse

          If time were a river Akane would be lost somewhere among the reeds and long grasses along its banks. As it was, she simply wasn't sure just how long it had been since she saw real sunlight. She had been pulled into the monotony of dreary beige walls, faded comforters, flickering lamplight. Much like a twig in a whirlpool. In the middle of a river.

          Day and night became one. There was no past, there was no future. Only the present, like an enormous mass all around her. Stifling, dull, a wash of bland, faded grays and earth tones. And in that mass, a ghost of brilliant color only seen in her peripheral vision, was Ranma. 

It was impossible to tell how often they met. How often they spoke. He was the only difference in each day, what she guessed was a day. Maybe she should have been grateful. She didn't think she could be. Not when his very presence grated on her nerves, sent her control flying like so many bullets. And the worst part was… she enjoyed it.

          Control was beyond her now. Something distant, unnoticed and unmissed. A forgotten memory.

Without it, she had found it was easier. To play the game. His game. Ranma's game. A game of careful words, skirting and dancing around meaning without actually touching it. Like a child's game of tag. Each of them trying to open the other without opening themselves. It was a challenge; how long could they stay strangers?

'Do you need anything?'

He would ask sometimes. She would answer without looking his way. Less personal. As if his face were a nametag, there but not meant to be read.

'Maybe. But don't you?'

This question had received a variety of answers. 

'You don't need to ask.'

Was the most frequent. She didn't know what that meant. Or maybe she did, but never let herself think about it. She had plenty of time to think.

During the game time moved faster, as if she were spinning and the world moved fast to her eyes only. A blur of shapes and colors. The game was never-ending, but the intervals between playing time were dull, sluggish lulls. Time slowed and the world was one color again. A painting of still-life.

She thought during these lulls, alone with her mind. She thought about stupid, trivial things. Distractions. She thought about her job, if they would look for her. She thought of her apartment, and if it would be waiting for her if she ever got out. She wondered how many stitches it took to make the comforter across her bed. She wondered where she was, and why no one would hear her when she screamed. She had tried screaming. Not because she had thought it would work, only to keep herself busy. Distractions.

She couldn't think about Ranma. She couldn't think about herself. If she did she knew she would realize the pointlessness of the game. They weren't strangers. They never had been. And somehow, not thinking it made it seem less real.

She knew it was self-delusion. She knew she would realize it someday. She knew she was only prolonging the inevitable. But she also knew that the truth hurt. And nobody likes to be hurt.

"Hey."

Akane didn't turn to look at him. The game began again.

"What?"

"Follow me."

She glanced at him, out of the corner of her eye so he wouldn't see. He was waiting in the gaping mouth of the doorway. For her. She stood and followed.

She followed through the light room, through a grubby kitchen, through a hall with peeling walls. He stopped and opened a door. It squealed on its rusted hinges, trailing off weakly at the end until it died. He stood aside and gestured for her to go first.

It occurred to her just then, that maybe now he was finally going to kill her. 

She stepped into the room. Her eyes trailed across the dingy floor, up the faded walls, to the star strewn sky behind the windowed ceiling. She didn't notice as her head inched backwards and her lips parted just slightly. So it was night. She had imagined it was early afternoon. Ranma chuckled behind her. And she was caught.

"You like the stars?"

Akane turned to watch him warily. He sat on a beaten loveseat, its furnishing hanging off the frame and bulging out over the lumpy cushioning. As comfortable as if he had been born there. She sat next to him. Only because he hadn't prompted her to. She enjoyed these small defiances.

"Do you?"

He didn't answer. He only leaned back and watched the sky.

"No more questions."

So he didn't want to play. Maybe she was the childish one. Maybe it was _her_ game. Akane bit her lip on the inside, enjoying the taste of blood.

"You can see them clearest at this time of night."

She didn't answer this time. Ranma didn't seem to notice.

"Do you see that one?"

He pointed to a collection of stars. She gave up.

"Yes. It's Pegasus."

"Yeah…"

She glanced at him. He was fuzzy, a lump of gray, like everything else in the darkness.

"Wild horse, eh?"

He grinned at her analogy.

"Something like that. Horse becomes famous instead of his rider. I like that."

She pointed to a constellation.

"Do you see that one?"

"Yes. It's Aquarius." 

Akane nodded. It didn't occur to her that he might not see the movement. 

"Wouldn't be famous if it weren't part of the zodiac. I like that."

It was like everything else. Like her. Like Ranma. Superficial.

"How did you know?"

That was her voice. In the darkness.

"I saw you looking at them. Just before we met."

That didn't touch anything in her. It didn't sting, or burn, or spark her anger. He killed. He killed Xian. His eyes reflected the stars. She looked to the sky. Darkness and light. She looked back to Ranma and saw the same thing. In his eyes.

"Is that your favorite? Aquarius?"

"Yes."

It might have been morning. Akane assumed it was because she was just waking up beneath her ratty sheets. She didn't remember coming back to her room. She wondered if the game would start again, if she had made a mistake.

It didn't hurt just yet.

A muffled thump caught her ears. She stood, pushing aside the blankets into a tousled pile. She heard another, louder thump and a sudden crash. Glass shattering. Her ear was flattened against the door. She heard nothing. Her fists were beating against the door, her voice cried out, unintelligible. 

Why was she doing this?

"Ranma!"

Yes, for him.

The door opened and she stumbled backwards. Her eyes caught flame-red hair bound in a short pigtail. A slight, lean build. Blue eyes. Dressed all in black. Darkness.

The girl stood waiting in the gaping mouth of the doorway. Their eyes locked. Death.

She closed the door, locked it, and left. Her fading footsteps echoed in Akane's ears. In her mind. The girl's lifeless eyes, Ranma's lifeless eyes, still burned through her. 

It was beginning to hurt.

A/N: I know, I know. It took me forever to update, but I was really busy. I haven't had time to write. I hope I can get the next chapter out faster, but I still have to finish Half and Half, and I have school. And soccer practice four days a week. Sigh… anyway, thanks sooo much to everyone who reviewed!! C ya next time.


	4. Chapter 4: Out and In

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 4:

Out and In

          A heartbeat. The steady, pulsing thump within Akane's chest. She thought she could hear it, if she concentrated. Her heartbeat.

          She was stretched out across the bed, her battered hands lying still at her sides. Waiting. She had long since given up on the door. It would not fall to her hands, no matter how many of its splinters crawled beneath her skin. So she waited, listening.

          She heard the distant pops of wood, only audible in silence. The sounds a quiet house makes. She heard her own slow breathing. The beating of her heart. She heard running footsteps, echoing in the silence, drowning out the expanding wood. She heard a frantic fumbling at the lock.

          The door flew open, and Ranma stood in the open doorway, breathing heavily. His wild eyes darted around the room, landing on her and coming into focus.

          "You're alive."

          His voice was transparent and thin with the gasping of his breath. Like words stripped of tone and blown by the wind. He stared at her, taking her in, never quite meeting her eyes. He took a step backwards, his face a mask of fear.

"I… no…"

  Slowly, his footsteps retreated. And he was gone, the door still hanging open. A gaping mouth.

          Akane shook herself and stood, dashing out of the room, into a hall, through the light room. 

          "W-wait!"

          She didn't recognize her own stuttering voice. She never stuttered. 

She came to a dead halt in front of a door that slammed in her face, connecting with the doorframe in stunning finality. Shocking finality. Her eyes burned twin holes through the barrier between Ranma and herself, just inches from her nose. 

Pain. Her nails dug into the sweating palms of her hands, leaving a pattern of crescent moons. With a vicious, strangled cry she raised her fists and attacked the door. She imagined it was Ranma.

          This was all his fault. This pain. And she hated him for it. For making her care. For making her feel concern she had never felt for Xian. 

Her fists beat upon the door, rattling it on its hinges, creating an echoing tattoo. She kicked at it with her booted feet, she drove her slight weight into it with as much force as she could muster, she yanked at the cold, brass knob. Behind the sound of would and flesh and boot upon the door there was only silence.

"Open up!"

She cried out to fill it. Angry, vengeful. Time passed.

"Answer me!"

Still only silence. Irritated, tiring. 

"Let me in!"

Her voice could not reach him, through the closed door. Desperate, weakening.

"Do something! Please…"

She trailed off, slumping against the door and sliding down it to hug her knees to her chest and hide her face. Hopeless, frail.

"Let me in, you bastard…"

Pained, desolate. How she hated him… Akane raised a hand to her tightly lidded eyes and pressed her fingers into them. Blotches of muddy green and purple, circles of toneless black ringed by firey orange, appeared in her field of vision. They remained as a ghostly after-image when she released the pressure and opened her eyes.

An open doorway stared back at her. 

At the other end of the hall, and through another room it stood. For a long time she stared at it, studied it. It was something of a shock, to see a door just standing open. Waiting for her. She watched the door, as if it would move, as if it would disappear. The shaky sound of her breathing was loud in her ears. 

          Before she knew it, she had walked the distance to the open portal, never taking her eyes off it. It never moved. She stopped beneath the doorframe and listened to the quivering sound of her own breathing. It never moved. Her foot came off the ground, impossibly slow, and moved behind her. She took another backwards step. The door closed beneath her hand. Her own traitorous hand. 

          Betraying her self-delusion.

          She turned. The metal of Ranma's handgun was a cool, deadly circle against her forehead. 

          "Why? Why didn't you?"

          His hand was without tremor, unlike his voice. 

          "Will you kill me now?"

          She didn't know what possessed her to ask him that. His eyes met hers. First she saw fear. Then she saw pain. Beneath that she saw concern. Then self-hate. Betrayal. Pain. Indifference. Dejection. Death. Pain. Tears. Blood. Pain. Light. Pain. Darkness. Pain. Pain, pain. A child, crying. His pure soul.

          And she was back to herself, pulling out of the tunnels of his eyes like waking from a fast-paced dream. The hand with the weapon shuddered, Ranma shuddered. The gun dropped from his limp hand. It clattered noisily on the floor, shaking like a stricken spider. 

          Akane stared at it, but made no move to pick it up. 

          "Take it."

          She turned her eyes to Ranma. He too, was staring at the discarded weapon.

          "Please."

          His gaze flickered to her. She knew…

          "It's your job."

          …What he was asking. 

          "No."

          "Why not?"

          He was goading her. She clenched a fist. So he wanted death. No.

          "Take it yourself."

          He didn't move.

          "You won't, will you? You don't really want it."

          His eyes hardened. Chips of blue ice. Suddenly, she found her back against the closed door. Ranma's palm contacted the wood beside her head with a dull, resounding smack. He leaned over her, into her, their faces nearly touching. 

          She expected hate. She expected brutality. But when she looked into his eyes again they were soft, confused, scared, pained. 

          "Why won't you stay out?"

          His voice was a whisper, brushing heat against her pale skin. She shivered. He had only ever touched her on that first day. They both kept their distances.

          "I tried."

          And she had. But they had never been strangers. He dropped his hand and backed away.

          "You want me to explain, don't you?"

          He was watching her. Daring her to answer.

"It's too late to say no, now."

Was her reply. A weary sigh escaped his lips.

"It was too late on that first night."

He gestured for her to follow, and she did. She followed him deeper into the building. Deeper into himself.

A/N: Okay, I got this out pretty fast right? Thanks for all the reviews!! I just have one question for Socchan – All he asked them was if the cat was alive or dead? Maybe I'm just being dense, but I don't understand how that's philosophical… sounds interesting though. I don't really have anything else to say right now, except please review!! Alright, I'll c ya next chap.


	5. Chapter 5: Soul Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 5:

Soul Cry

          "I don't really want to tell you, you know."

          "I know. You don't have a choice."

           They sat in a room, on separate chairs, a glass-topped table in-between them like a barrier wall. To keep them from knowing each other. Akane could see the ragged carpet through the table, like a mop of unwashed hair. She shifted her booted feet among the dirtied strands of yarn. The room was cold… no, lifeless. 

          "Where should I begin…?"

          "What is this room?"

          It bothered her. Beneath the dirt and torn walls the room was clean. Stainless, like a knife of steel. Ranma didn't look at her. He hadn't since they came into the room. He was staring through the table. He knew what it was.

          "Ranma is my given name. Ranma Saotome. But… I think you're the only one that knows that anymore."

          He sat with his legs spread apart, his hands clasped between his knees, leaning forward. One of his hands tightened convulsively around the other, until the knuckles turned white like the face of a ghost.

          "I was born here. In Nerima. My family moved to China when I was young. But before that, my father knew a man. I never knew his name – I never met him. My father… he…"

          Ranma paused. His fists clenched.

          "Was a fool. He had some sort of business with this man. I don't know what it was. He was such a fool… and so was I…"

          Akane bit her lip. He was hurt, by those memories. And so was she.

          "Your father, what was his job?"

          He chuckled, a dry, sardonic sound.

          "He was a detective."

          "Oh."

          Her eyes slid from him to one of the battered walls.

          "We moved back to Japan. I was sixteen, and for a few years we were like any other family. Normal. Then… they… they died."

          He unclenched his fists, letting the tension from his hands and a sigh from his lips. 

          "I killed them."

          He took deep, measured breaths.

          "I killed them."

          His fist slammed into the glass tabletop and it jumped. Akane watched him in silence. 

          "I killed them…"

          She couldn't find it in herself to be disgusted with him. And she certainly could not fear him. She could never fear him. Her eyes widened. The table… it was wet. With his tears. She could see a distorted image of his face in the tiny mirror of water. His expression was perfectly neutral, as if he didn't notice he had begun to cry.

          "Why?"

          Her voice was a breathy whisper, as soft and light as the caress of a feather. He didn't answer, not right away. He stared at the table, or maybe at his tears, broken on the glass. Akane was watching her hands where they sat in her lap when he spoke.

          "They were crying."

          She raised her head.

          "They were crying for death."

          "W-what…?"

          "That man… who knew my father… he cursed me. There is a toxin, with the power to change the genetics of whoever ingests it. I was the first. A prototype. Only because it was _convenient._"

          She hated watching this. It hurt. Watching him relive his past, through memory. While the human mind could not remember pain of the body, emotional pain was always an open wound. Scarred over by time and reopened by life.

          "It didn't quite work like it was supposed to. I didn't change. So a different type was developed. This time my father was the test subject."

          There was something resembling a smile in his expression.

          "It hurts, you know, to go through the change. It's unbelievably painful. I thought I would die the first time… but I'm never the one to go. The first time, it was my father."

          He twisted his lips thoughtfully. Why was she watching his lips? They were more expressive, at the moment, than the dead blue of his eyes.

          "Once the toxin has entered the body, it takes some time to begin its effects. They are very subtle, for the first few hours before the actual change occurs. If the change is completed the victim will never change back. But my change is different. I was born wearing the form you're looking at. This is me. But… the toxin in my body… reacts when the toxin begins to take effect on anyone else."

          "So… that girl…"

          "Was me."

          His voice was dull, like the half-dead look in his partway-lidded eyes. Like the lifeless atmosphere in the room. She glanced around the room with its beaten walls, sparse furnishings, shoddy carpeting. The glass table was out of place. In a room of bad memories. This was where he hid his pain.

          "The victims themselves don't notice any of the effects until the change begins… but I do. Their souls cry out for death… its almost deafening…"

          His hands were shaking.

          "And then the change comes… hurts like hell… then I'm on the outside looking in until the change comes again."

          His shoulders trembled.

          "I've killed everyone I've ever known. They're trying to draw me out… because they can't track me."

          "How… did you know Xian?"

          His bitter laugh rang in her ears.

          "She asked me for directions once. That's all it takes."

          Akane bit her lip.

          "You saved my life… didn't you?"

          "No. I only prolonged it. You'll die too, eventually… probably by my hand…. You can't run forever."

          So he was alone. Isolated. She was too, in a different way.

          "And you didn't want to know me because you knew that. You knew I would die."

          They were similar, on the basest levels. But in saving her, he had caused them both more pain.

          "You should have let me die. You should have spoken to me, and tracked me. Maybe you could have found them."

          He raised his head and his shocked eyes met hers. She was mesmerized by the blue flames. The quickening tattoo of her heart pounded in her chest under his intense gaze. 

          "I will never throw anyone's life away, if I can help it."

          His voice was fierce. He bit off the end of each word with vicious severity. He was childish then, not to sacrifice one life for the sake of others. Or maybe… he was more adult than she could ever be. It didn't matter. She wasn't intimidated.

          "You could have saved us both pain!"

          He looked at her. As if he was sorry for her. As if he felt pity.

          "Would you really like that? To have no pain? Without pain… there is no happiness."

          Her breath caught in her throat. This was what she was afraid of. This was what she wanted most.

          "Are you… are you happy, then?"

          "With you? Of course."

          Then there was no pity, only warmth. Her shoulders began to shake. Was she laughing, or crying? There were no tears. And she wondered, as raspy coughs escaped her throat, how he was so pure.

          "Use me."            

          He raised his brows in question. As if he hadn't heard. He had heard, she knew, but he didn't want to.

          "Use me."

          "No."

          "Why not?"

          "Do you want to die?!"

          "I don't _want_ to… but if there's a good reason, I will."

          The look on his face made her want to reconsider. 

          "Please… don't…"

          He wanted her to live more than she did herself. That alone made it harder.

          "You can't keep me forever. You said so yourself."     

          "But…"

          He couldn't argue. There was no reason to prolong the inevitable…

          "But I don't want you to die."

          Except for that. That bothersome thing called humanity. 

          "You can't get everything you want."

          "Don't you think I know that…?"

          He tore his eyes from her face. She wanted to cry. But she had no tears left.

          "Fine. You leave tomorrow."

          She wondered… if he could hear her soul weeping for him. For them.

A/N: It's been so long since I updated this… well long for me. I just couldn't make Ranma a total baddie… Umm, last chapter I only got **two** reviews. So, since I am getting so few, I decided to start answering them. But if you only say that it's a good fic or something I probably won't reply cuz there isn't much to say to that except thanks. Longer the review, longer the reply. Okay…

Socchan: You always leave such long reviews. I love it! Anyway, I can't believe that was a physics problem… weird… guess I can't use it then. That quote was great though! I think I heard it before somewhere…

          Akane_Girl13: Oh, wow… I don't get threatened very often… heh. But I'll try to update faster, so don't hurt me!!

Well that was easy. The reason I never did this before was… well I'm a lazy person. And it took me ten minutes just to do those to. I'll start no though. C ya next chap.


	6. Chapter 6: Times of Change

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 6:

Times of Change

          She would be leaving soon. Tomorrow, Ranma had said. If only she knew when tomorrow was. There was always something comforting about knowing the time. A little piece of order in the chaos of life.

          Akane sat on her bed, propped up by many unmatched pillows. She was, once again, in her room. Her room… she could recall a time when it had been simply _a_ room. 

          Her eyes flickered to Ranma, and back to the wall across from her. He was staring past the comforter across her bed to a place only he could see. He looked pensive. There was only silence between them. Once she would have embraced that silence, like the warmth of a lover. It was a cold barrier to her now, when so many others had fallen. 

          A thought occurred to her. She acted on it impulsively, before she could think better of it. 

          "So… what are you going to do to him once you find him?"

          She was talking, of course, about the man who was ultimately responsible for Ranma's curse, for the pile of reports sitting in her apartment, for the death of innocents. The man without a name, without a face.  She didn't have to specify, Ranma would understand.

          His gaze was on her for a bare second.

          "Kill him."

          "I… thought you…"

          "Didn't want to kill? You thought right. But you can't have everything you want…"

          "Oh…"

          They lapsed back into silence. Bitter, horrible silence. She shifted her feet, knocking them together and watching. The stiff quiet was uncomfortable. Her eyes flickered again to Ranma. There was a palpable tension between them, a sea of confusion, pain, and things left unsaid. 

          "I'm sorry."

          And she was. But even as she spoke those words she knew they wouldn't be enough. 

          He only glanced at her.

          There was an un-definable anger behind his eyes. Not for her, but because of her. He was betrayed.

          "It's time."

          He stood without looking at her, and left through the door. Akane followed him. She had no luggage. She had nothing. Her eyes drifted to Ranma's back.

          It was the last time. 

          The newest file was tossed upon the pile of its precursors. There was a sound almost like the brief rushing of water. Akane dropped into her desk chair, ignoring the thin film of dust. There was dust all over, evidence that her apartment had been untouched during her absence. No one had connected her to Xian. They were tired too. Tired of the rank stench of dried blood and death like salt and old bread, hanging in the cold, stale air. Tired of the endless flow of words on paper that were organized into manila files and labeled with the names of the deceased. 

          But maybe she was the one who felt that way. And the rest of her ward was only looking for the easy way out. Maybe they just didn't care. She wanted to believe they were good people. But it was hard sometimes…

          And you can't always get what you want.

          It didn't matter what she thought now anyway because…

          "I'm going to die."

          She bit her lip. Her eyes traveled from the pile of files to the discarded clothing littering the hardwood floor to the drawers of her desk, open to varying degrees. The contemporary metallic ceiling fan. The shelves, pressed against the wall and cluttered with books and papers and trinkets. The door-less entryways from room to room, rectangular openings in the walls on her left and right sides.

          This was all she had. This was all she would lose. 

          "I'm going to die."

          She knew Ranma was somewhere nearby. Maybe he could hear her. She was talking to herself… what would he think? It didn't matter, because soon she would exist only in the thoughts of others. And only truly in the thoughts of Ranma himself. So maybe it did matter.

          "I'm going to die, Ranma. It's funny… I've always known I would die, but it never hurt before this."

          She thought she heard an answer. Not of words, but the whisper of movement just barely prodding at her consciousness. Her back was to an empty wall, and she was glad of it. 

          She wanted to face death. Just to see…

          "Do you know why? Why this pain? I don't. I'll probably be dead before I figure it out. Death… I wonder… what will it be like?"

          Her eyes darted back and forth between the two entryways, like the wavering path of an unsettled fly. 

           "I think it will be nothingness. I want it to be that way, with no room for regrets. But… if it's not…"

          She knew there was someone there now. There was no noise, no sound to betray the presence of an enemy. Only the firm conviction of her senses.

          "If there is an afterlife, then maybe I'll see you there… someday. Or maybe… maybe we'll be reborn and meet again. I'm not sure what to want… what to believe… Ranma…"

          She didn't care who heard her. She had to keep talking, fill the silence. In the silence, the noises might be audible. And then she would _know_ someone was there. Maybe she hoped her voice would scare them off, that it was only a juvenile looking for some quick cash.

          "…I think… I'm afraid. But… not of death. It's stupid… but… I'm afraid of…"

          She let out a short, hysterical giggle. She had no idea what she was saying… only that it was true… and that it would keep her from reality. She could freeze time with her words.

          "I'm afraid I… you know, I've never been so scared… I'm not even sure I've ever actually been scared… not for a long time and not of something so… so…"

          She laughed. They were just outside the entryway.

          "I'm afraid…"

          She could imagine them, pressed against the wall, and waiting for the right time.

          "…That I'll…"

          A booted foot was what she saw first, edging into the room. Her hand crept towards a drawer, its contents glinting in the dim light.

          "Never see you again, Ranma."

          She flicked the drawer open, and with one fluid motion the gun was in her hand. Her eyes met with those of a young man with a lean build and slightly more feminine features. He held a gleaming dart gun and a bored, if a bit arrogant, expression. Her finger shook against the trigger.

          "D-Drop it."

          Her voice wavered as she spoke. The young man smirked. And then a dart plunged through a fold in her coat, barely missing the skin. It hadn't come from him. So there was another.

          And then she heard a gunshot and a thump, and instead of her second assailant, Ranma came through the entryway. The round holes of both their weapons were trained on the young man like a pair of dead eyes.

          "You know, you were supposed to let him shoot you." 

          Akane wanted to laugh.

          "And you were supposed to stay put."

          Neither of them moved their eyes from their silent enemy who still had his weapon aimed at her. 

          "Drop it."

          This time it was Ranma who gave the command, and his voice was colder and harder than hers could ever be. But the young man's smirk widened. 

She looked down to find a dart in her arm. Then through a murky haze she heard a gun go off and saw the young man fall before she fell to the ground herself. The last thing she saw was the burning blue of Ranma's eyes. She thought maybe she would die soon, by his hands.

Why?

Because she was just like all the others.

Would it be so bad to die?

Not if she were killed by him.

How she had changed.

A/N: I am sooooo sorry it took this long, but only had time to write on Wed. and then I had really bad writers block. School keeps me really busy and the next chap might take about as long cuz I have 3 major projects due next Fri. for 3 different classes and I haven't started any of them. Plus I have soccer til 5:00 at least 4 days a week. Its tough… Ok enough about that, I just have one more thing to say: I am most definitely keeping this fic under 15 chapters, hopefully I can fit into 10. I was planning to make this kind of short from the beginning, so it doesn't have that much to do with my schedule. I've just wanted to do some IY fanfiction for a while and have to finish this first. On to the reviews (like I said before, if all I can really say is thanks, I'm not going to make a reply, as much as I love to hear it):

Saturn Angel: I hope you found it different from my first fic! It was supposed to be. Writing thirty chapters in the same style kind of got to me, so I just wanted to try something different. As for the dialogue in the first couple chaps, there really wasn't much for them to say without giving stuff away and I don't like to waste space having the characters do things that have no relevance to the story… actually, its more like I'm really lazy and like to keep it in as little words as possible while still being descriptive… but those first two reasons were part of it. Glad you like my fic and thanks for the review!!

Socchan: You don't… understand… !? Argh… well I'm not going to explain it to you… actually, yes I will: Ok, Ranma doesn't have control over his 'cursed form' so basically, he can tell whenever someone else is 'cursed' and then he transforms to a girl and goes and kills them. Why? I don't know, she just does. Maybe she's crazy or something… like that kid in your Mom's dream… that's really creepy… Hmm… I might be able to use it… but I'm not sure… I love your suggestions though. You seem to be one of the few people who read the author's notes and actually listens to them. It's great!


	7. Chapter 7: Dreaming the Impossible

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 7:

Dreaming the Impossible

          The ceiling was a smooth, creamy white. Stained by time and rain. Blotches of brown like diluted coffee stared down at her. They were misshapen eyes without pupils and ringed by a darker outline. They were her own eyes, casting accusatory glares on her from above. Ridiculing her for her unintended hypocrisy. Akane couldn't find it in herself to care. They were water stains on the ceiling, and not worth making into something more.

          She was lying atop the tidy covers on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. She had woken up that way.  Her clothes were rumpled and flattened where she had slept on them. But she was comfortable. And warm, even without the sheets. She had woken up that way. In Ranma's arms. He was still asleep. She was still dreaming.

          "Hey, wake up, you pervert."

          One eye opened, and met hers. And then the stuttering began as he desperately tried to explain. It didn't matter, to her, what his explanation was. She could remember something. A blurred picture of his face and a string of meaningless words.

          "And y-you – uh, you – "

          "Did I ask to sleep here?"

          He nodded dumbly.

          "Then… I'm glad… that I could wake this way, just once."

          He eyed her warily, propped up on his elbows beside her. She laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she had done that. There was nothing particularly laughable about the situation, but… it was funny to see him flustered. She rolled over and clutched her sides. It was so easy just to forget… and keep dreaming….

          He dropped onto the pillows with a soft thump. She heard a soft sigh, and turned towards him. Her laughter slowed, waning until she was allowed to catch her breath. He was watching her, studying her as if he had never before seen a woman and was wondering what one was. 

          "You've… never done that before…"

          She smiled. It felt good.

          "You're right."

          She was content, to be where she was. It was the simplicity of waking, and not being alone. It was the warmth of his body by hers. It was like a dream; something she yearned for, but could never really have.

          They sat on fold-up chairs – the metal kind, rusted and dingy. Akane held a steaming mug between her bare hands, enjoying the warmth. Ranma sat across the table, in what could pass for a kitchen. 

          "They'll find us now."

          She looked up at him.

          "What?"

          "I can't be tracked, but you can. They'll find this place."

          She turned back down to her mug and wished she were still dreaming. Reality was neither cruel nor kind, but it was painful.

          "Will we be here when they do?"

          "I don't know…"

          She thought she should have felt some sort of fear, some sort of alarm. But none came. She was calm, because he was too. It didn't seem quite real. As if they would live forever in this way, in this suspended moment. 

          "I guess… if we leave… they could follow."

          He only nodded absently. 

          "So… we're not leaving then? We're just going to stay here until…"

          "Maybe. Think about it. We can run, but for how long…? I don't really want to try and see. We could stay here and most likely be killed. But I don't want to die before he's dead…"

          "There's nothing else…?"

          His gaze slid over her.

          "You're a detective."

          "And…?"

          "And you could get the police to help us go after him."

          She frowned.

          "I'm not doing that."

          "Why not?"

          She couldn't stand the calm in his voice. He looked triumphant, as if he knew already that she would give in.

          "They aren't looking for him, they're looking for you."

          "And…?"

          "And you'll be killed!"

          Her voice had risen. She bit her lip and glared at him. She didn't like to sound so concerned.

          "How will they know it's me?"

          She opened her mouth to speak, but was left with nothing to say. He was right. No one even knew who he was. Damn him.

          "But… if you speak with anyone, then they'll be killed…."

          "He'll be dead, I think, before he can get to anyone."

          "This is stupid. It won't work."

          "Why not?"

          She wouldn't meet his eyes. 

          "There's no reason for it not to."

          His voice remained the same smooth, tranquil tone.

          "But…"

          He was right. There was no reason not to go through with it. There was nothing else to do.

          "But I don't want you to die."

          "I'm not going to die."

          "You don't know that…"

          He stood from the table, pushing his chair back. He glanced at her once and gestured for her to follow. Which she did, without pause. 

          Between the shelves and cupboards that made up Ranma's kitchen was a door. Hiding in the shadows of the back corner. It opened soundlessly, and he stepped into a cramped room. The walls were lined with closed cabinets.

          "What is this?"

          He didn't turn to answer her, reaching over and opening one of the doors. Over his shoulder she could see its shelves were stacked with weaponry.

          "It's a closet."

          "We're going to go with your plan, aren't we?"

          "Was there ever any doubt?"

          "I don't want to."

          She stared at the floorboards.

          "You can't have everything you want."

          It was a wooden floor. Old, and unfinished, and gray with dust.

          "But… it's not fair. I… I'm going to die…"

          "Nothing is fair."

          She looked up. He stood in front of her. So close… 

          "How long will I live?"

          He watched her. His eyes held a sad warmth. A blue glow that was almost ethereal. Because it was only there for her.

          "I don't know."

"Maybe… you should kill me now…"

She could see a desperation in his eyes. She could feel it in his kiss. She could feel all the need of a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. She could feel the boundaries between what was and what could have been begin to fade. This was a part of her dream. His lips left hers and she awoke. Something she could never really have.

"I can't do that."

He breathed the words into her hair and stepped away. And she understood. She could never take his life. Just as he could never take hers.

"What if they get here before we're gone?"

The sound of boots against the floor greeted their ears. He glanced at her.

"Speak of the devil…"

Their enemies found only an empty room.

A/N: I'm later than usual, sorry. I had to write this chap. twice cuz the first time it didn't come out right. Once winter vacation starts I expect to have more time to work… school is such a killer… Ok, on to the reviews:

Socchan: Don't worry, you're not _that_ frusterating (Umm…Gym teachers…?)… hmm… did you mean symbiotic? (you wrote symbyotic) As in microscopic organisms that work together to benefit each other? If so, I have no idea what anyone would get from reviewing for me… Oh well, anyway, you're very right about girl-type Ranma. Except that if people stopped being cursed she would still be there, but she would be dormant. I'm not going to write much about her, though, because she doesn't really have a point of view, she's not a real person, and I'm writing this all from Akane's POV. I don't know why. Wow, that was a long one… but it's okay, the longer the better! Thanks a bunch!

Tr1n1tty: Somebody likes my weird writing style! Amazing… well, I can't take all the credit. I read this book called "Cat's Eye" by Margaret Atwood and tried to model my style after hers. I don't recommend reading the book, but I loved the style. It's not exactly like hers, just enough to give off the same kind of dark… umm… ness. You think this is one of the best?! I'm so touched… even if it is just because it's such an odd story. Thanks for reviewing!!

Kura-Kun: Sigh… life is hard for the keyboard challenged… 


	8. Chapter 8: When Ends Meet

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 8: 

When Ends Meet

          The door slammed shut behind them. The sound resonated through Akane's apartment with the gasps of their labored breathing. They had escaped Ranma's little armory through one of the cabinets. Behind the unembellished doors was a portal to the outside world. Akane hadn't had time to analyze the lack of heat and visible sky before racing to her long-abandoned home. She did now, though. Her eyes traveled to a window. It was midday, and the sky was a wash of shades of gray. 

          She felt the urge to laugh and bit it back down. Nervous laughter would betray her. She took a glance at Ranma. He stood beside her, his chest heaving with each sharp intake of breath. His eyes turned to her suddenly, as if he had felt her questioning gaze on him. She took a deep breath and glanced around the room. It was as she had left it. As silent and cluttered as an ancient tomb.

          "Now what?"

          His frown was almost imperceptible. He raised a gloved finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. She didn't understand his reasons. She didn't have to. She trusted him.

          He crossed the room in measured steps. His boots were silent against the floorboards. He gestured for her to follow, and they crept across the room, stopping at her desk. 

          The phone was cold in her hand. She slid it off the receiver carefully, the number engraved in her memory. Filtered ringing was fed into her ear before it was abruptly cut off and replaced by a clipped business tone. 

          "Hello, you've reached the Nerima Police Department. How can I help you?"

          She didn't recognize the distant voice, warped by its travel. It didn't matter.

          "This is Akane Tendou, Inspector- division six. I need you to put Soun on. Tell him I'm at home and… I have Zero, but I need some help." 

          Zero. The codename for Ranma's case-file. She could no longer connect the two in her mind. 

          "I doubt I'll have time to hold so – " 

          The dead silence at the end of the line was her first clue that something was not right. The circular mouth of a gun pressed against her back. The phone fell from her limp fingers and she raised her hands shakily, barely daring to move. She was afraid. And she hated it.

          She expected she would die soon. And so would Ranma. So, as they were both prodded out the door, surrounded by faceless soldiers, she could only feel a sense of sickening relief. Death had been warded off, for the time being. 

          The time had passed when she could look passively into her own demise. She had changed, but isn't that what happens when ends meet?

          They were alone. In a room, eerily silent and spotless like an alien landscape. Behind them were the closed doors they had stumbled through. Before them was a stretch of gray flooring, a desk without clutter, a great leather chair facing the wall across from them. So… perhaps they were not alone.

          Akane's eyes wandered to Ranma. He was staring at the walls, a look of rapt fascination and unspeakable horror growing on his face. She followed his gaze. 

          The smiling face of Xian stared back at her. 

          It was a photo, framed and hanging from the wall. She looked out at Akane, a perfect replication of her memory, but for the myriad of crooked lines across the photo's glossy surface. It had been torn many times, and put back together to hang on the wall of this room. Just like the rest of the pictures. Pictures of the dead. They would never smile again, but they were smiling now.

          There were many of these faces. Ranma was only seeing one. His expression had gone slack, only his eyes betrayed a harsh acceptance. And the cause; a photo of a woman with auburn hair braided and held back by a decorated comb. She looked across the room at them with soft blue eyes, and a knowing smile and delicate features.

          "That's… my mother…"

          "So it is… she was quite lovely, wouldn't you say?"

          The chair didn't turn. Ranma's fists clenched at his sides. 

          "Shut up…"

          His voice was a bitter hiss. Akane could see his hand straying beneath his jacket.

          "Don't you even want to know my name before you kill me? Just so you can curse it?"

          The voice was mocking. Baiting.

          "I don't care…" 

          Two shots sped through the black leather.

          "…about your name."

          He lowered the hand with the weapon slowly.

          "You don't? That's too bad. I think I'll tell you anyway."

          The gun was raised again in a heartbeat. The chair whirled and they were met with the sight if a withered old man, a pair of holes in the chair where any average person's head would have been. His was far below that, due to his shrunken stature. He was only an old man. He smirked.

          "Call me Happy."

          Akane couldn't help staring. 

          "H-Happy?"

          What kind of name was that? He turned to her, the smirk turned to a sickly smile.

          "Yes, my dear?"

          "Don't look away from me."

          Ranma's voice was low and dangerous. He held the gun steadily. The old man raised his brows.

          "Ah, I suppose you'll want to kill me now."

          "I've wanted to kill you long before this."

          "But if I die… you'll kill again…"

          His finger tightened on the trigger.

          "I doubt it."

          "Then you want to curse the rest of Japan?"

          He stared at the old man. For a drawn-out moment they watched each other. Waiting, anticipating, calculating. Then Ranma spoke.

          "Explain."

          The old man smirked. He was a child with a new toy.

          "I don't think I want to anymore."

          A single shot sped into his head. Like the pictures, he was smiling, and like the pictures, he would never smile again. Ranma lowered his weapon mechanically.

          "That's too bad."

          The door burst open. An entire unit came into the room, their weapons searching hungrily for a target. In front of them was Soun.

          "Akane! Where is he?"

          She didn't have a chance to answer.

          "I'm here."

          His voice was a dull monotone. He let the gun fall to the floor, and raised his empty hands. There was no life in him. 

          "This is him?"

          Soun voiced the question without turning to her, and had Ranma's lifeless form restrained without waiting for her to answer. Then he looked her way.

          "Are you sure?"

          She was going to say no. 

          "Even if I'm not who I claim to be, I still took this man's life."

          He nodded to the corpse in the chair.

          "That's worth something, isn't it?"

          Akane met the dead blue of his eyes desperately. It was a sea of endless blue. As tranquil as a lake of still water. Then she knew; this was his real plan. It struck her hard. He wanted death. He wanted an end, now that all the rest had met.

          He had changed, but that's what happens when ends meet.

A/N: This is probably off topic, but… there are ants in my bed! Really, I looked over (My comp. is next to my bed) and saw all these ants on my pillow. It's even worse in my bathroom. It's really annoying to have to stop typing to squish an ant that's crawling across your keyboard. It's even more annoying when they crawl underneath the keys and you can't get at them… I must have 100 ant corpses ground into my carpet and even more live ones crawling across it. The weird thing is, there's no food around here, so I have no clue what they are after. I hate ants!! 

Ok, please excuse my ranting, on to more important things. I made Soun into Akane's superior. She doesn't have a past as far as you know soI just decided to place him in a more apparent position. He's not her father, he's her boss. If you were expecting a long epic battle, sorry. I don't see that happening in this fic. I was planning to make Happy the evil guy, and how hard can it be to kill an old man when he's not a martial arts master? The next chapter will be the last, and everything will be resolved! No loose ends this time! And I might get it out before Christmas! Ok, reviews(I'm not going to answer if all I can say is thanks):  

Socchan: I get it! When you said there was a symbiotic relationship, I thought you meant people only reviewed because they can get something for it (Forgive me, I'm easily confused) I like to use suggestions whenever I can, I used the picture thing in this chap, but I wasn't having any other murderers in this story and I don't think Ranma would do that so… it came out like this. I still think its kind of creepy. I agree with you, though, being acknowledged by a writer you like is – for lack of a better term – cool. More than that, really. Even if they're just answering a review, I'm always excited to see my name in there. Woah… Am I one of your favorite writers then? And you think this is one of the best, too?? Wow… this one wasn't as popular as Half and Half, but it was definitely worth writing.  Well, thanks for always taking the time to review! You're one of my favorite reviewers (Yeah, I am trying to guilt you into reviewing again) 

Ka_chan: Speechless?? Ah… you're too nice to me… not that I mind or anything. Sorry for the slow update! I have no time on school weeks, but now it's winter vacation! I swear I'll get the next chapter out before Christmas!!

Kura-kun: It's okay to be confused… I'm kinda confused myself… But no it isn't the government. It's those darn terrorists! I didn't really specify what Happy's group is exactly, but… they _are_ terrorists! Sadly, that's about all I know about them…

Kachie: I think a lot of people are confused by this fic. But I'm glad you can compare it to a movie, that is exactly what I was going for!! Thanks for reviewing!


	9. Chapter 9: Life and Loss

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma 

Chapter 9:

Life and Loss

          "Live for me."

          It had been three months. The police force had taken the situation swiftly from Akane's hands, as if she were a child with something rare and valuable in her unstable grasp. When she had no more to tell them, when she had turned in her full report, she was cast aside, only allowed to watch helplessly from the sidelines. She was merely a spectator. 

          "I'm not strong enough anymore."

          A spectator of endless trials and discoveries. The trials were pointless. The masses wanted someone to blame, just as she had once, and there was no one to contradict them. She might have been a part of it all, and done as satisfactory a job as whoever had been assigned. But they didn't trust her anymore, and that was just as well, because she didn't trust herself.

          "I'm too tired."

          It had been discovered that the organization under 'Happy's' control, was in fact planning on a widespread distribution of their toxin. They were a terrorist group of some kind. She hadn't bothered to learn their motives. She didn't want to know, she didn't want to believe they were real. It was a defense mechanism, she knew, to protect herself from pain. But she needed it. She needed it badly. It was too soon to let go.

          "I need you to live."

          The plans had been stopped, of course. And an antidote to the toxin had been found. It seemed too easy, but some things were like that. Not every task was as daunting as it was made out to be. Certainly, the world would be a different place if everything that needed doing was insuperable. But – and she had learned that there was and always would be a 'but' – that didn't mean life was anywhere near simple. Easy. Painless. Nor would it ever be.

          "Forgive me for being selfish, if you can."

          She had taken no part in the arrest of the organization. If she had wanted to, she doubted her superiors would have tolerated it. She was something to be tolerated, now. No one appreciated her mysterious leave of duty. No one knew the truth, and so they could not understand. They could not understand if she spilled her heart out for them to dissect. The report she had placed on Soun's desk was false, but believable, logical, understandable. She had depicted herself doing nothing praiseworthy, and though she had bagged a notorious killer through her efforts, his capture was believed to be a stroke of good fortune on her part. Which, in truth, it was.

          "I know you could have helped me enjoy my life. You did."

          No matter how much it hurt. It was good fortune, a stroke of luck. Or maybe a twist of fate. Maybe it was destiny that led them to cross paths on that first, quiet night. Something meant to happen, something painted in the stars. No matter the cost. She would gladly relive it all, just to meet him again.

          "I know, also, that there were so many alternative outcomes. You could have saved me. You did."

          She wished she could have spared herself the pain. Because it hurt, more than any wound of the flesh ever could. And she knew, it would never disappear completely. But the pain, as much as the joy, was a part of his memory. It was a part of him, and a part of everything. 

          "Don't blame any of this on yourself. You gave my life meaning. Let me live in your memory, until we meet again."

          And she wished they could have met under different circumstances. In better times. They could have had so much more. They could have been so much more. She could never regret meeting him, though. Only that they had so short a time together.

          "So live for me, Akane."

          And most of all, she wished to meet him again.

          "And don't cry…"

          A soft gasp escaped her lips. She looked into his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. And then she collapsed and cried against his chest.

          "You're… such a… a hypocrite!"

          Tears trailed down her face. They shone like tiny stars.

          She could feel his hands, warm and dry, smoothing her hair and rubbing slow circles against her back. Why was he always like this? Couldn't he be afraid to die? Even as he sat, waiting, at the end of Death Row, it was she who needed comforting. This was what he had requested, in place of his last meal. To see her one more time. He was such a jerk.

          He kissed her lips softly.

          Then the door opened, and a pair of gaurds, faceless soldiers, took his arms. He looked calmly into her face, his lips forming silent words.

          'You're beautiful.'

          The urge to cry was renewed in her. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, long enough to mouth a reply.

          'I'll see you again.'

Then he was gone. She was left with only her memories, and the raw pain of loss. And life. And as she wept her soul cried out.

          _It's not fair…_

          And she could hear his answer.

          _Nothing is._

So she lived.

          Until she could see him again.

Author's Note: Originally, I was going to kill them both off, but in the end I just couldn't do it. I think this last chapter is a little different from all the others, more hopeful maybe. But I enjoyed writing this one the most, oddly enough. I was really inspired by that song, 'I will always love you' by Whitney Houston. It's strange because that's definitely _not_ one of my favorite songs, but I thought it was good for this chap. Thanks to all my reviewers, who liked the story enough to comment on it, even though I think this was one of the strangest stories out there. I got some really interesting responses. So, I hope everyone who's reading this enjoyed the last chapter. I think I'll write a few one-shots before writing anything major. I'm going to try writing for other animes, and maybe someday I'll be confident enough to try it in original fiction. That day is probably a long time in coming, though. So I'll c ya around. On to the reviews:

Final-Fan: Ok, I'm going to attempt to answer all of your reviews at once. First, I agree that when Ranma fics begin to look into the characters emotions and thoughts it can easily be overdone, and it really isn't natural for the series. I didn't even try to keep them in-character, I just created new personalities with the same names. Hmm… just a bit strange?(I think it's a little more than that) Anyway, I think you're the only one who recognized (at least you're the only one who commented on) my reference to Taro. I don't like to use original characters, so I just tossed him in there. And the final review: I wrote this chapter before I read your review, and I really hadn't thought about Ranma not being put on death row. I think in Ranma's case he would rather be dead than live in prison or an institution for the rest of his life, and try to lose the case. And yes, ants are weird. I don't think they have brains, do they? Well, thanks for reading the whole story! I'm glad it didn't get too weird for you.

Kura-Kun: I hoped you were kidding as soon as I read that…. But anyway, I live in California, and none of my neighbors have ant problems, just us. I think our house was built over an ant hill, or something. Gah! Giant spiders! I would not like that…

Ka_chan: Of course you can take it as a Christmas present! (If I get it out in time, I've been having computer problems) Glad you liked the chapter! I hope the finale doesn't disappoint. P.S.: Who doesn't hate ants?

Socchan: You read this just because I wrote it!? Oh, wow… heh… I don't know what to say…(I'm easily embarrassed by compliments. I think I must have a low self-esteem) Anyway, I hoped you'd like how I used the picture thing, since you're the one who gave me the idea. I think you're mom would be honored that she was able to contribute to this fine piece of literature… err… or maybe she'd just be weirded out…. Oh, the cherry blossoms would have fit so well… but I had the end planned out the whole time, and I can't see cherry blossoms in a prison. I really seriously considered changing it once I read that, though. So you don't have an account here? Get one! And if you ever start writing (which I think you should. I haven't read anything of yours, but you seem like you'd be good) I'd definitely want to pre-read for you! Thanks for reviewing all the time, I hope you'll continue R&R my work!!

Shadow Knight: I had to read your review over a few times, just because you said so many good things about my story. I'm always glad when people say they love my story, but it's even better when they comment on things I was trying to express. You commented on a lot of the things I wanted people to see. I agree that every story needs to have some thoughts, and I doubt anyone will ever be in a situation like Akane's, but I'm glad you thought it was realistic. Thank you!! That was one of the nicest reviews I've ever gotten! 

I'm sorry, I would have had this out sooner, but first the internet didn't work, then when it finally did, FF.net was down. I've been trying to get this up for days! Well, anyway, Merry Christmas!


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